Only Time Will Tell
by LexiInTheSky
Summary: Following Voldemort's death, everyone thinks that the Wizarding World is safe from dark magic. However, a forged copy of the Elder Wand causes Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny to go back in time to Hogwarts in 1979 to stop the young wizard in his tracks.
1. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER ONE – MOURNING GLORY**

"Just do it already."

"Give me a minute."

"It would be better to get it over with, wouldn't it?"

"I'm just—"

"You're what?"

Ron blinked dumbly. Like usual, he didn't have a supportive argument. He couldn't even think of a sarcastic comeback to defensively ease the tension. In fact, his mind was practically numb, so numb that he gave in.

He allowed his fingers to release the stack of papers that been eating away at him for weeks. On one hand, he wanted to keep them hidden away in the back of his closet, beneath stacks of old issues of the _Daily Prophet _that his mum had forced him to keep because of their mentions of Harry or perhaps even himself. On the other more overwhelming hand, he wanted to dispose of every piece of parchment that reminded him of what was tearing himself, and his family, apart, in the hopes that they could move past it as soon as possible.

Ron averted his eyes to the petite brunette standing next to him. He had no idea how he had gotten lucky enough to finally call himself her boyfriend after years of drama, other love interests on both of their ends, and numerous fights that had temporarily taken tolls on their friendship. She looked cautious, and he understood why. Ron wasn't completely upfront about his emotions the way Hermione was, so she wasn't sure if her assistance was hurting him or helping him.

He looked down at the untidy array of papers that fallen to the ground. He could scarcely make out some of the smaller print.

_Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes joke shop launches its opening with_

_ Co-owner Fred Weasley declares, 'It was always a small operation between_

_ Ron, do Georgey and me a favor and slip some of these Puking Pastilles into Snape's pumpkin juice at_

_ and I want to congratulate you on making Keeper this year. Try not to get a Bludger to the head, Ronniekins, you're thick enough already._

Snippets of magazine articles, letters, and virtually anything associated with Fred's name lay on the unmanicured grass before him. Photos with his brother's gleaming, handsome face haunted him. The sound of Fred's chuckle played itself repeatedly in his head, giving him the same chills as the funeral dirge that was played in his honor only an hour before.

"Get rid of it, Hermione," Ron gravely muttered.

"Are you sure you want to do it now?" Hermione clarified, removing her wand from the deep pocket of her navy blue blazer. "There's no going back."

Ron took one last peek at the stack, one last listen to the irksome laughs that echoed in his head, and one deep breath before nodding slowly.

Hermione looked at him again, searching his eyes to ensure that he wasn't just putting on a strong front for her. She seemed to believe him because she raised her right arm up and said in a slightly choked-up tone, "Incendio."

Small flames erupted from the tip of her wand, drenching the papers in fire. Ron tried his best to ignore the grinning face of his elder brother as it became engulfed by the bright orange flames.

This suddenly brought his mind back to the funeral, where Fred lay in his open coffin. Although Mr. Weasley had insisted that it should have been closed, Mrs. Weasley protested, telling him that she wanted to see the face of her son one last time. This was a mistake, however, as the sight of her lifeless son caused her to collapse forward, using her hands to snatch at her son's cold face, perhaps to remind herself that one of her babies was truly dead. Ron understood why his mother had been so emotional after seeing Fred's body in the coffin. Fred's normally golden, bright, shining face was something nobody had ever seen from him before; it was grey, unsmiling, and lifeless. His normally untamed orange hair was parted and combed, giving him the appearance of a young boy. After seeing his brother in this condition, he swore to himself, wishing his father had gone through with closing the casket.

He felt Hermione's hand reach out to grab his. He gave it a confirming squeeze, clarifying that he was okay.

Hermione took a step away from the fire to avoid the drifting sparks from leaving marks on her best black heels. Ron followed this action, but took his step closer to her. He unlaced his fingers from hers and brought the same arm around her waist, leaning into her only slightly. She responded by resting into him, her cheek buried into his shoulder.

For a moment, Ron almost thought that he felt a raindrop fall upon his chest, but the blue sky and vibrant sun beating down told him otherwise. He tilted his head down and sideways to face Hermione, whose face was streaked with tears. He brought the arm that wasn't already wrapped around her and used that hand to wipe her damp cheek.

She looked up at him, sniffling. "I'm sorry, Ron. I didn't want you to see me like this." Her lip quivered slightly as her eyes grew raw and red.

Ron shook his head. "It's alright, Hermione. I'm okay." He tightened his arm around her, bringing them even closer. "The question is are _you _going to be alright?"

Hermione's face broke into a smile as she chuckled past the tears. She reached into her charcoal-colored purse and took out a tissue that had been spared at the funeral. "I'm a mess," she admitted before blowing her nose into the paper.

"It's alright to be upset."

"Fred wouldn't have wanted it that way. You know that." Hermione paused, watching another newspaper article blacken from the fire that she had created.

Ron nodded solemnly. "You're right. If Fred had been there, he would have laughed at how stiff everyone was being. He would've held my mum and convinced her to stop crying. He was always good at cheering her up."

"He was." Hermione smiled a little, remembering.

"And if he saw how serious George was—"

"He probably would have tackled him and wrestled him on the spot."

Ron chuckled. "Or made another ear joke." Ron thought of one quickly. "Like 'You're deaf-initely looking better, Georgey.'" He knew Fred would have come up with something loads better; he was always very witty on the spot.

The fact that he and Hermione were finally laughing again made him feel much better. He knew that as soon as they returned back home, everything would go back to its gloomy, sorrowful atmosphere, but it was nice to have a temporary break from all that.

The two were silent as the last piece of parchment, a fake Howler that Fred had created after the car accident during Ron's second year to mock his mum's commotion, shriveled from the fire and turned to ashes.

Hermione waved her wand again, causing the fire to die out to prevent it from spreading. Her eyes were glassy but not as teary-eyed as they had been before.

"Should we head back now?" she asked him.

Ron nodded. "Everyone is probably wondering where we went off to." He took his arm from around her and faced her, looking into her dark brown eyes. "Thank you for helping me with this, Hermione."

Hermione smiled up at him. "You're welcome," she replied. "Thank you for comforting me. I know this is harder for you than it is for me."

Before he could respond, she leaned up onto her tip-toes and gave him a gentle kiss on his mouth. This small, kind gesture reminded Ron that this was the first time that they had kissed since the end of the war, since Fred's death, and since Harry's victory against Voldemort (a name that Ron had no problem saying anymore). Unlike Lavender Brown, whom he had spent more time snogging than talking to, Hermione had a connection to him that went far beyond physical attraction.

Ron took her hand in his and led her across the field that they were standing in, back to the Burrow, where Fred's funeral reception had surely already begun.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Author's Note:

I'm so excited to finally jump back into fanfic writing. The first chapter is much shorter than I plan on making the other chapters, but I see it as more of an introduction than anything. The M rating will come into play later in the story, so please be patient!

I'd like to clarify that my story is as if the epilogue had never happened. In other words, we don't know the fate of the Wizarding World and if the gang will really have a happy ending…

Please review! I love feedback!

Lexi


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER TWO – A NOT SO TYPICAL RECEPTION**

The Burrow looked like its normal self, but somewhat tidier. This most-likely had to do with Mrs. Weasley's new obsessive cleaning habits (manually, not by magic) that took her mind off the family's loss. A large white tent (very similar to if not the exact one used at Bill and Fleur's wedding reception) was set up on the lawn with tables and chairs beneath it. Unlike the wedding, however, the décor was limited, giving the setting a lack of cheer and, not so ironically, life.

Ron and Hermione finally caught sight of the party. Although it wasn't particularly exciting, the guests seemed to be making conversation with others and enjoying the food that Mrs. Weasley had spent hours preparing.

"Good turn-out, I suppose," Hermione said to break the silence.

"Yeah." Ron nodded. "Fred may have pissed off a lot of adults and gotten into loads of trouble, but you've got to hand it to him, he had a lot of friends."

Hermione agreed, squinting to make out faces in the crowd of people under the tent. "I'm sure a lot of people from the battle came to support your family." It was hard to see who was who, especially the ones who were deeply immersed in talk with others. "A lot of the others who died in the war didn't even have funerals. I bet a lot of people came to honor them too."

Ron had completely forgotten about the others who had fallen that night. Lupin surely hadn't had a ceremony, as his family contact was very limited. Tonks's mother had too much on her plate with baby Teddy to care for, so a funeral for her husband and daughter was out of the question. He wasn't quite sure about the others, but assumed that for most, planning occasions like this was not exactly on the top of their lists of things to do.

Once the two finally reached the tent's exterior, Hermione turned to Ron.

"I'll be back in a few minutes," she began. "I've smudged my makeup quite a bit back there. I'll meet you in there once it's fixed, alright?"

He couldn't really tell if her makeup was actually smudged or if she was exaggerating it like most girls would. He had never been very observant when it came to things like that. He could barely differentiate a made up Hermione from a rolled-out-of-bed Hermione, although this was probably because Hermione seldom rolled out of bed without meticulously adjusting her hair and dousing herself with perfume, as he had seen every day during the past year while living in the tent together.

Ron nodded anyway and watched her hastily enter the front door of the house. For the first time all day, he felt alone. Harry had spent the night on a cot in his room, his family stuck together before and during the funeral, and Hermione had kept him company afterwards. However, the loneliness did not last long.

"Oi, Ron!" a voice from inside the tent called out.

Ron spun his head in the direction of the sound. His eye-line met those of three boys whom he knew all too well: George, Lee, and Charlie. They stood in a line, holding their drinks and people-watching. He gave a single nod in acknowledgement of their presence and joined their circle.

"Where have you been, ickle Ron?" George chuckled. Clearly he had cheered up since the funeral. The color had returned to his face and he wore a smug grin.

"I was with Hermione," Ron replied, expecting George and Lee to make jokes as they always did. "She was helping me get rid of something." He didn't really want to give the details; it would only make things uncomfortable.

George cracked up and looked at Lee, surprised that he hadn't shared the thought of what was so funny the way Fred would have. "What were you getting rid of? Your load?"

Lee joined in the laughter now, cackling like a hyena. Charlie chuckled while rolling his eyes. Ron liked seeing his older brothers act so childish; it showed him that the war had not completely matured them.

Ron laughed along before speaking back. "At least I have someone to do that for me." He clearly hadn't gotten far with Hermione, but he didn't necessarily want his brothers to know that.

George and Lee looked at each other awkwardly.

"You have a point, you mental git," George admitted hesitantly.

All of a sudden, a dark-skinned figure appeared between George and Lee. Her black hair was pulled into a loose side-braid and her face was enhanced with a respectable amount of makeup.

"Hello boys," Angelina Johnson greeted them. She looked cheerful at the moment, but her eyes were still red from crying at the funeral. Fred had been one of her best friends, and possibly her boyfriend, but Ron was never really certain about that.

"Speaking of birds…" Lee said, greeting his friend.

Charlie, who had always been more interested in dragons than girls, dismissed himself. "I'm going to go find mum. She might need help serving the food. She's had a rough day as is."

Without another word, Charlie nodded at them and made his way into the house quickly, as if he wanted to get away for a few minutes.

"Should we go help too?" Angelina asked, suddenly feeling guilty for standing around.

"Nah," George replied. "Mum loves hosting parties. Worst situation: she could use magic."

Angelina shrugged. "Anyway," she continued. "What did I miss?"

"Well," George began. "We were talking about Ron's knob, so you didn't miss anything too big."

Lee cracked up at this, interpreting it the way George had intended it to be. Even Angelina chuckled. Despite her maturity, even she enjoyed a good Weasley twin joke.

If Hermione had been there, Ron's ears would have grown red in embarrassment. However, like Angelina, he appreciated his brother's witty, somewhat offensive sense of humor. "We also talked about George's apparent lack of one."

George cracked a charismatic grin that reminded Ron very much of his second-year Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. "I may be ear-less, little brother, but I'm certainly not lacking in the schlong department."

Ron rolled his eyes. He often forgot about George's nub of an ear, which had remained unbandaged for weeks now. Although it was clearly going to stay that way forever, it had healed immensely.

For a moment, Ron became disconnected from the group. His mind wandered around the party, centering in on specific people. All of a sudden—

"GET OFF ME!" a familiar female voice hollered from across the crowd of mingling people.

"Was that—?" Lee began, but was cut off.

"Ginny," Ron affirmed, recognizing the voice all too well. "I'll go check up on her. She's probably still upset from earlier." He faced his brother, looking him directly in the eye as he suggested, "Go around and socialize. I bet Aunt Muriel will want to see you."

George scoffed. "The old bat could barely differentiate me from Fred."

Ron shrugged. "Then set her straight."

Although George did not look completely convinced, Ron departed from the group, making his way to where he believed the yell had come from. He kept his head down to avoid contact with relatives that would distract him from finding his sister, and successfully reached the other end of the tent without his obvious red hair and pale skin calling attention to himself.

He looked up, shaking his head from left to right as he scanned for the long red hair that was particularly useful in identifying Ginny. Finally, he caught sight of the girl, but not in the position that he believed that he would find her in.

Ginny was laying on the ground, holding a glass filled with what appeared to be alcohol of some sort above her head. Harry and Neville were standing beside her, trying to pull her to her feet. Ginny was resisting, kicking her legs in the air to deflect their arms from touching her.

"Bloody hell," he mumbled to himself as he stepped heavily over to Ginny.

As soon as Harry saw Ron approaching them, he looked panicky. "Mate, I—"

"You got my sister _drunk_?" Ron shot in response. Apparently he looked and sounded extremely angry because Harry and Neville seemed rather frightened to be in this situation.

"No, Ron," Harry clarified. "Listen, I left her for five minutes to use the bathroom and get us drinks, but when I came back, she had clearly gotten herself a drink."

"Or five drinks…" Neville added uncomfortably.

"_Five _drinks?" Ron had to keep himself from yelling. He believed Harry's story, but he didn't know at whom he should have been angry instead.

"And Neville wasn't even with us until after I found Ginny in her condition." Harry was speaking quickly.

Ron allowed himself to calm down a bit. "I don't blame you two, don't worry." He looked back down at his sister, who was giggling far too much for a funeral reception.

After Ron spoke again, Ginny's face popped up and broke into a big smile. "RON!" she bellowed. "RON! RON! RON! RON!"

Ron shushed her before she could call too much attention to herself. "Ginny, you need to speak quietly."

Ginny giggled again before whispering back, "Is this quiet enough for you?"

Ron's eyes shot to Neville, then to Harry. Both boys looked lost. Apparently they had no idea how to handle this situation, and honestly, neither did Ron.

"Here, let's get you off the ground." Ron extended his hand to Ginny, who looked hesitant.

"I… er…" Ginny looked conflicted. She didn't want to disobey her brother, but her altered state caused a recklessness that she had never had before. "Hang on." Before the boys could stop her, she threw the rest of her drink down her throat, coughing a bit on the strong liquid.

"Six drinks…" Neville gulped.

"Ginny, quit it with the firewhiskey." Harry seemed more annoyed than distressed at this time. "That stuff is really powerful."

"Don't be so boring," Ginny whispered to him, looking at Ron for approval of her soft volume once again.

Ron sighed as Ginny finally came to her feet. She wasn't exactly graceful at her state, but she stood up much more easily than Ron thought she would. Just to ensure that she would not go toppling back to the ground, Ron wrapped his arm around her shoulders to support her.

"Can I get a little help here, mate?" Ron suggested to Harry, who quickly came to his aide by wrapping his arm around her waist.

Ginny snorted. "Harry, I thought I told you to lay off the inappropriate touching!"

Harry's head shot to Ron's face, which looked very unpleased.

"Bollocks, Ginny. I didn't need to know that," Ron cried, frowning the way someone does when they smell something awful.

Harry stammered back, "I, er, didn't touch her inappropriately before the party—"

"Yes you did!" Ginny shouted back. "Remember, Harry? I was in my room this morning, getting dressed for the funeral, and you kept touching my arse!"

"Harry did _what_?"

"Oh, come on," Harry beckoned. "Are you really going to believe her? She's drunk!"

"What's that quote again? My gran used to say it when my uncle got drunk and went on angry rants." Neville scratched his head, trying to remember. "Oh, right. 'Drunk words are sober thoughts.'"

"Neville!" Harry snapped. "Way to call me out."

Neville shrugged awkwardly. "Sorry, mate."

Ron and Harry assisted Ginny from under the large tent and through the front door, much to her displeasure. Thankfully, Mrs. Weasley had left the kitchen before she could see her daughter in such a corrupted state. Harry and Ron walked her to the couch in the living room.

"Ron, no! It's too nice outside! Let me go back, please!" Ginny exclaimed, whining like a child.

Ron shook his head stubbornly. "No, Ginny. You can't even stand up straight." He gently lowered his sister onto the couch.

Ginny didn't protest the way Ron thought that she would. Instead she giggled and simply said, "Sitting is fun."

"Where's Hermione?" Harry asked Ron, turning the subject away from his own girlfriend.

Ron shrugged. "She went to use the loo, but I lost sight of her since I came across this one." He pointed at Ginny, who seemed to have averted her attention to inspecting one of the couch pillows with the utmost fascination.

"You reckon she fell in?" Harry asked.

Ron pretended to look panicked for a moment, jokingly acting as if he believed these words. He broke character, chortling to himself. "Nah, she's probably with everyone else at the party. Maybe she was cornered by Luna and was forced to listen to her ramble on about what great wigs Kelpie hair makes or some rubbish like that." He shot his head to Neville quickly. "No offense, mate."

Neville shrugged, not taking these words to heart. "Don't worry about it. It actually does sound like something that would happen, now that I think of it."

Neville's crush on Luna wasn't exactly a secret. Everyone had suspected that something would happen over the years, but Luna's feelings were much harder to read than his. Whenever he mentioned the prospect of them hanging out, Luna would simply reply "That sounds nice" but never actually act upon it. Neville was too shy to follow up on these plans, leaving her completely clueless.

All of a sudden, Ginny burst into tears, sobbing loudly.

Even though they were completely thrown off by this spontaneous, random act, Ron and Harry reacted quickly, sitting on either side of her on the couch.

"What's wrong, Ginny?" Ron asked, trying to quiet her wails.

"Do you want me to get you anything?" Harry suggested, patting her shoulder.

Ginny calmed herself down to try to speak. "I— I just—!" Then she dove right back into her noisy sobs.

Ron was starting to get a bit annoyed. His drunk sister reminded him of a high-maintenance baby, one who needed constant attention, care, and comfort.

"Please tell us, love," Harry pleaded.

Ron frowned subtlely at his best friend. Although his sister and Harry had been dating on and off for years, Ron had never heard them utter a single term of endearment to each other until now.

Ginny reached out for Ron, not Harry (whom Ron thought she would grab instead), and put her hands on his shoulders. She looked him in the eye, allowing her tears to fall without brushing them off her cheek. "I miss Fred."

With this, she began to cry even harder. Ron just stood there, lost for words. He didn't know what to say to cheer her up, as he didn't think it was possible to cheer up after thinking about this.

Harry and Neville stood by awkwardly. It would be uncomfortable for either of them to intervene into family matters.

"I— and—" Ginny began, but couldn't seem to get the words out.

"Yes?" Ron pushed.

Ginny let go of Ron and leaned back against the cushions, allowing her head to plop heavily onto one of the pillows. The only movement that came from her then was the rising and falling of her stomach as she inhaled and exhaled.

Ron rolled his eyes and cursed under his breath. "She's a keeper," he cheeked at Harry.

A voice from behind them, slightly shrill and feminine, startled the boys. "Should we bring her upstairs? She's going to hurt her neck sleeping like that, you know."

As they turned around to see who was speaking, Ron laughed with relief.

"Well, you look utterly pleased with yourselves considering the fact that there is an unconscious girl on the couch," Hermione joked, understanding why they all looked so giddy.

Hermione had changed from her plain, dark-colored funeral ensemble into something much more comfortable and – in Ron's opinion – appealing.

"You look—" Ron began.

"Oh, stop drooling, Ronald. I only changed because it's far too hot to be all black." She put her hands on her hips, chuckling at her boyfriend's lack of discretion. Her sky blue knee-length dress floated perfectly over her subtle curves. The baby-doll top wasn't revealing, but the skin that showed looked smooth and flawless. "Besides," she continued. "A lot of other people changed into party clothes, so I'm not the only one."

Ron looked her up and down one more time before turning back to his friends to have them help carry Ginny upstairs. However, when he turned to face them, their eyes were still fixed on Hermione, surveying her like a piece of meat.

"Oi, you wankers. Are you going to help me bring Ginny upstairs or would you care to eye-fuck my girlfriend some more?" Ron snapped.

This brought the other two back to life, awkwardly nodding their heads and going about his order. Although Harry could easily lift his girlfriend in his arms, Neville stood beside Harry, holding her feet in the attempts to appear useful rather than get scolded by Ron again.

Hermione was blushing. "Ron," she whispered to him coyly. "You don't have to get so defensive. I'm perfectly capable of standing up to them myself."

Ron nodded. "I know." He waited for the two boys to go up the winding stairs with Ginny before continuing. "You just look so…" He couldn't find the words to give her appearance justice.

"Well, you look very…" She paused, mocking his unskillful way with words. "as well."

Ron looked down at himself. The hand-me-down suit barely fit him anymore due to his excessive growth spurt that took place after he had worn the suit last. His skin was still pale and freckled, completely unphased by the spring sun. He still looked as lanky and skinny as before, even though he had promised himself that he would start working out to make himself look at least somewhat worthy of Hermione.

"Me?" He laughed.

"Yes, Ron," she replied, seriously. "I know you don't agree with me, but I think you are beautiful."

Ron snorted. He had never considered himself handsome, let alone _beautiful_.

"I'm being serious, Ron!" Hermione replied, smiling. She looked him up and down once more before taking a step closer to him. "You're attractive, kind, funny—"

"So you _do _think I'm funny." Ron might have been using his humor defensively, but she didn't know that.

Hermione laughed. "Yes, I do, Ron. My old self might have said otherwise, but she was lying. I've always found you hilarious." She paused. "Insensitive on occasion, but humorous nonetheless."

Ron nodded. "I expected that."

Hermione looked him in the eyes deeply. "I wish you could see yourself through my eyes, just once."

Ron cut back in. "You too."

"Well, you make it very obvious how you feel about me, Ron. I almost had to wipe the drool off your chin just a minute ago." Hermione seemed flattered by the attention rather than offended, the way many girls would be.

Ron shrugged. "I just can't help myself."

The ends of Hermione's lips curved up into a little smile before she added, "Neither can I."

Before Ron could process it, he felt Hermione's lips on his. Her lips hugged his upper lip, while his closed in on her lower lip. She seemed to be applying more pressure to the kiss than she had in the past. He felt her arms go around his neck, so he gently put his hands on the small of her waist, high enough to keep her from withdrawing from him. He moved his lips with hers, hoping that maybe, just maybe, she would open her mouth wider to deepen the kiss.

Just as this thought ran through his head, Hermione jerked her head away from his and backed up feet away from him. The footsteps that descended the stairs made Ron curse to himself.

Harry and Neville didn't seem to notice the couple's flustered appearance and red cheeks (and in Ron's case, red ears). Instead, they continued to carry on their conversation.

"Don't worry, Neville. By the end of the summer, you'll be a pro on a broomstick." Harry was encouraging, although he didn't seem too sure of himself.

Neville reluctantly replied, "No, Harry, it's alright."

"If you say so. But with a little help from me and Ginny, I'm sure you'll be eating your words."

Harry and Neville returned to the sitting room, rejoining Ron and Hermione again.

"Should we go back to the party? We don't want anyone to start worrying," Hermione suggested sensibly.

"I'm sure mum won't be worried at all when she sees her daughter unconscious later tonight," Ron cheeked, half serious but still using normal joking nature. "I'm sure seeing that will be a cake walk compared to seeing her dead son only hours before…"

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Upon leaving the house, the four found themselves forced into a conversation with Horace Slughorn, whom seemed to have also consumed an excessive amount of liquor,

"He always boiled his potions over, that Fred," Slughorn explained. "Always a sweet kid, he was."

Neville nodded along politely, although it was clear that he was just playing along with his past professor's comments to please him.

"Er, professor?" Hermione cut in, furrowing her eyebrows a bit at the man.

"Yes, Miss Granger? (Oh, I've missed your questions quite a bit over the past year. I don't know why but the students last year seemed far more interested in learning spells and jinxes than brewing potions. I've missed your enthusiasm.)" Slughorn's side comments were more to himself than to the teenagers, as he did not make eye contact with any of them while he said them.

Hermione cleared her throat quietly, giving him a minute to collect himself before admitting, "You never had Fred as a student, Professor Slughorn. He was finished with Hogwarts a year before you came back."

Slughorn laughed loudly, slapping his hand on his knee. "That's right! (Now that I think about it, I don't remember seeing the boy very much. Just this one time in Diagon Alley when I had to get a new pair of dragon skin gloves, when I passed by his shop. What was it called again? Weatherby's Wizarding Wuzbits, or something along those lines.) Who was it I was thinking of then?" He looked puzzled for a moment, scratching his head to come up with the name, but became too distracted by the lack of liquid in his glass to come up with it.

"He's mental," Ron whispered to the others.

Hermione shushed him, worried that Slughorn would hear this comment. "He's not mental, Ron. He's just…"

"Mental," Harry finished for her, laughing along with Ron.

"Pardon?" Slughorn asked, unaware that they were talking about him.

"We were talking about… er…" Hermione tried to cover it up, but couldn't think of anything to say instead.

Out of nowhere, a man apparated only feet away from them, causing a stir among the nearby party-goers. His emerald green robes were very ornate, trimmed with gold and flecked with miniature stars throughout. His tall stature overwhelmed the group, particularly Hermione, whom was clearly the shortest. His dark, rough skin looked more wise than old, as if he had been through far more than his age could tell.

Kingsley Shacklebolt, looking as sharp as ever, stood before them with his hands in his pockets. Usually a wizard like him would not apparate so suddenly, so this was strange for him.

"Look who it is," Neville whispered to the other three, who watched closely. "I haven't seen Kingsley since the battle. He looks better."

Hermione ignored Neville's observations and smiled at the man before her. "Hello, Kingsley. Have you just arrived at the party?"

Kingsley grinned down at her. Although he had been known for being tough and serious at work, the man was also very warm-hearted and welcoming. "Hello, Hermione. Yes, I've just arrived directly from the Ministry. Important business going on over there, they could barely let me out for a friend's funeral."

Harry nodded. "Well, we're glad they let you come after all."

"Well, they didn't exactly _allow _me to come, rather they _forced _me to." He sounded hasty with his response, as if he had to be somewhere else.

"They forced you to come here?" Ron asked bluntly.

Kingsley put his hands up in defense. "The phrasing of that was incorrect, I apologize. Allow me to explain. I wanted to come here, but the Ministry has urgent business to deal with following the battle. A lot of changes will be made, let me tell you." He paused, allowing all those changes to really hit him. "Anyway, important matters need to be discussed."

"With us?" Ron inquired.

"Now?" Harry wondered, equally curious.

"Yes and yes," Kingsley responding, smiling at their confusion. "Just the three of you. Please keep this quiet for now." His eyes fell upon Neville suddenly and his face calmed. "I'm sorry, Neville."

Neville shrugged, somewhat downcast. "It's alright," he said. "I'm used to it by now."

"Sorry, Neville," Harry repeated again.

"It's okay, guys. I'll go find Luna. She's probably off smelling the petunias or trying to adopt a garden gnome or something."

As Kingsley led them into the house confidentially, the trio watched their friend's face slowly fade away. As they opened and closed the door behind them, they had no idea what to expect. They had no idea what they were getting themselves into.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Author's Note:

I absolutely love writing from Ron's perspective. I think he is one of the most underrated characters in all of fiction, so it's fun to actually give him some dimension.

Ron's big brother attitude with Ginny is something I've always admired about the character, so I wanted to include it early on in the story. Even though he doesn't necessarily have to be responsible for her, he does so anyway to ensure that she is safe. You'll most likely be seeing more of this quality in him now that Fred is dead, as he wants to do whatever it takes to avoid losing someone else so close to him.

Ah, yes, the cock-blocking, one of my favorite parts of Romione fanfic. Things start heating up gradually, getting better and better, and then Harry interrupts. This will happen very often, so please bear with their pain (and try not to be tempted to hit Harry for doing this).

Please keep reading and review! I'll try to post a new chapter every other Thursday (or possibly every Thursday if my schedule clears up).

Lexi


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER THREE – THE NEWEST TASK**

"Do you have any idea why I called you three in here to talk?" Kingsley's deep voice questioned them, becoming more official and less fatherly than before.

The trio had settled themselves onto the couch on which Ginny had been laying only ten minutes or so before. However, rather than playing with the pillows, yelling, and sobbing the way Ginny had done, Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat upright, each of them nervous to find out what Kingsley had taken them from to party to say.

Harry shook his hand slowly, Hermione quietly whispered "no" in surprise as if she was caught off guard that someone knew something that she did not, and Ron simply sat there dimly.

Kingsley chuckled. "I don't blame you three. Here it is, three days after the war ends and the Ministry comes crawling back to you, in need of something else on top of what you've already accomplished."

The three teenagers remained confused as ever, completely oblivious to what was going on in Kingsley's head or at the Ministry of Magic headquarters.

"As you may know, or you may not as it hasn't been released in the papers yet, I have been made Minister of Magic this past week." He seemed quite pleased.

"Wow!" Hermione exclaimed. "That's fantastic!"

"You'll be perfect for the job, Kingsley," Harry added, nodding in approval of this great achievement.

"Does that mean we'll have to start calling you 'sir' now?" Ron asked, part jokingly but also a bit seriously.

Kingsley laughed, his shoulders shaking jollily. "No, Ron," he replied. "In fact, _please _don't call me 'sir.' After all you three have accomplished this past year, or even these past seven years, you are the ones who deserve the respect."

The teens smiled modestly, looking down at their hands in their laps to keep the Minister from seeing the childish grins that had formed upon their faces from these kind words.

"You know," the tall man continued with a glint in his eye. "The newspapers have a name for the three of you. _The Golden Trio._" He paused, giving them time to absorb their new image. "Three of a kind, they say. Good things are expected to come from each of you… It's as if the Ministry is expecting you to do its dirty work for it since you've already completed one difficult mission already."

"So the Ministry of Magic sent you to come break some news to us… on the day of my brother's funeral?" Ron asked. "A little harsh, eh?"

Kingsley nodded. "Of course, but hasn't the Ministry been known for being abrasive? Harry duels Voldemort in his fourth year, saving the wizarding world yet again, and they are quick to believe that this is all a coax. They want to keep the students from getting 'radical' ideas to protect themselves from dark magic, so they send in a batty witch to keep the students' noses in their books and their wands in their pockets. The class is called Defense Against the Dark Arts, for Merlin's sake!"

"I learned more from Lockhart than I did from that cow!" Ron laughed.

"My point is, although I may be Minister, I don't have complete control over their decisions. I would have much rather avoided giving you three yet another burden so soon. However," he continued, clearing his throat, going right back to business. "Unfortunately I don't have much of a say in this decision, as my new career as minister has only just begun.

"The front headline of the _Daily Prophet _featured the three of you, discussing the process of your journey last year, along with descriptions of Voldemort's horcruxes and the Deathly Hallows. Although the readers have viewed the horcruxes as very controversial, they are not the matter that I come to discuss with you.

"The Deathly Hallows, as you know, were once considered to be a myth. However, with your discovery of each, the story is proven to be true and what was once a bedtime story will now make History of Magic textbooks. I'm sure you can name each of the Hallows and their locations easily."

Hermione nodded. "Harry put the Elder Wand safely inside Dumbledore's tomb, so that when he eventually dies, it will lose its effect and will have no true owner." She looked at Ron, beckoning him to continue.

Ron explained, "I imagine the Resurrection Stone is still in the Forbidden Forest, where Harry left it."

"And the Invisibility Cloak is in my trunk upstairs," Harry finished.

Kingsley nodded slowly. "These objects are well protected then. Dumbledore's tomb is well protected from snatchers and crooks. The centaurs in the forest will most likely adopt the stone, as they love supernatural forces and will view it as a sign from the heavens (or something along those lines). And Harry, I assume you won't be giving up your cloak anytime soon."

Harry shook his head. "No more prefects to sneak past at night, but the old thing does tend to come in handy."

"I'd like to say that this makes me feel better, but unfortunately, it doesn't. As we speak, the finishing touches are being made on a replication of the Elder Wand. The Ministry has not gotten word of where this is happening, or who is doing this, but it worries us to no end." Kingsley looked serious, unsmiling as he was before.

"But the real Elder Wand is hidden away. How could someone duplicate it if they don't have the genuine copy of it in their possession?" Hermione asked with the slightest bit of doubt in her tone.

Kingsley shrugged. "If this person is smart enough and has the proper tools, unfortunately, anything is possible."

Ron asked another question. "Wait a minute. How does the Ministry know that this is happening in the first place? Couldn't this be just another untrue statement used to make the wizarding world paranoid?"

"I wish it was untrue, Ron, I really do." Kingsley sighed. "The Ministry has received vague threats directly from the person, including letters with no return address from different types of owls. The threats have been things along the lines of using this power to overthrow the Ministry and create a governing system similar to the one that Voldemort had intended it to be. Of course it could be false, but the Ministry wants to take precautions against it just in case."

"So what are we supposed to do exactly?" Harry asked.

"Using the little information we have gathered from the letters—" Kingsley began.

"Hang on a second," Ron cut in. "Why would he share information in his letters? Wouldn't he want to stay anonymous?"

"He _or she_!" Hermione snapped at him. "It could very easily be a witch, Ronald."

Kingsley looked at Hermione in surprise at her quick response. "Well, we have been able to find information from subliminal messages in these letters, like specific quotes, symbols, things like that. The sex of this person does remain unknown however.

"Anyway, the purpose of the mission is this. We need you to go undercover, return to Hogwarts to attempt to discover who this villain is, and stop him in his tracks before it's too late."

The three looked confused.

"You can't expect _me _to go undercover, Kingsley. I can't go out in public for two minutes without it becoming a photo op. He _or she_ will recognize me!" Harry replied, giving Hermione a smirk when he said "or she."

"And isn't it a safe accusation to say that this person is mostly likely an adult? I understand that some students at Hogwarts are very advanced, but that sort of thing, creating a wand I mean, involves some very difficult magic." Hermione argued, thinking logically as always.

"Hermione, you are completely right about this person being an adult. We know that." Kingsley remained calm and smooth.

"So he's a teacher?" Harry asked, still not following.

"I bet it's Professor Slughorn," Ron muttered.

"Just because you aren't particularly fond of someone doesn't mean that they're a dark wizard by default," Hermione explained in response.

Ron shrugged. Being called by the wrong name at his brother's funeral wasn't exactly the type of impression that Slughorn would have been proud of making had he been sober. However, Hermione was right. Matters were serious; joking wouldn't exactly exempt them from having to go on this mission.

"Well, he's not at Hogwarts at the moment actually. In fact, to answer Harry's question, I highly doubt that anyone will recognize Harry." Kingsley had a tiny smirk, as if he was keeping a dirty little secret from the others.

"He's been on the front page of every single wizard newspaper every day this week. One of the articles even mentioned that they're considering making a 'Harry Potter' wizard card." Ron wasn't completely sure if this was true, but the idea of having a trading card of his best mate seemed a little strange to him.

Kingsley paused for a moment before reaching into the front pocket of his formal robes. Fishing around in there for a moment or two, his hand finally emerged, his fist closed over the small object that it was holding.

"What is that, Kingsley?" Harry asked, squinting at his hand to try to make out any details about the object.

Kingsley looked up from his closed fist to the three teenagers before him. "I'm almost positive you know with this is." Without further hesitation, he flipped his palm upwards and spread his fingers away from it, allowing the object to be seen.

Before Ron could even make out the object, her heard Hermione gasp next to him. Looking closely, he noticed the gold object, a small spherical necklace with an interesting detail on the gold ball. It almost looked like... an hourglass.

"I should have known! How did I not think of this? It's brilliant!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Is that—?" Ron began, pointing at the glittering necklace.

"A Time-Turner, yes, Ron," Kingsley finished. He played with the object in his hands for a moment, gazing down at its charm.

Hermione was still talking to herself. "Hermione Jean Granger, you walk around school every day with that thing around your neck, allowing it to dictate your life at the time, and you _still _couldn't figure that out? I suppose that's what a year without school will do to you…"

Kingsley chuckled at Hermione's inner conflict. "Now, here's what you three will have to do. You will use the Time-Turner to go back to 1979, to when the suspect was detected to have been a student in his or her seventh year. You will use the clues that I will give you in a moment to find out who the culprit is and return back to present time to disclose this information to the Ministry, who will use it to capture the criminal and put him or her in Azkaban where he or she belongs."

"But how will we know who this person is if even _you _don't know?" Hermione asked him.

"The letters he has given us anonymously include several details about his past. They are very ambiguous, mind you, but it's a start. For example, we know that he or she was either in Gryffindor house or Slytherin house."

Ron snorted. "Well surely he was in Slytherin…"

"Not _all _Slytherins are bad, Ron. Look at Harry. He was almost put into Slytherin, and he's far from evil," Hermione pointed out.

Ron shrugged. "Well, it was a good guess at least."

Kingsley ignored their bickering and continued, "What I need you three to do is to go back to September of 1979, adopt new names for yourselves to prevent any suspicion, enroll at Hogwarts as seventh-year students, and try to detect the student who is plotting the creation of this new powerful wand."

Hermione interrupted politely, "Kingsley, how will we know who is creating this wand if we're going back over eighteen years ago? I imagine the person behind this would have started to create the wand only recently, once word of Dumbledore having it became well-known."

Kingsley nodded. "Yes, Hermione, that's right. However, if you spend time to get to know the other seventh years in Gryffindor and Slytherin, you will be able to decipher the temperament that such a dark wizard would have. All we really need is the name of the student, but it must be clear that this person is the culprit. I don't want to be locking innocent souls in Azkaban while accidentally allowing the wand-maker to continue to move his plan further and further. That would surely get me sacked."

The three of them nodded, finally understanding the plan.

"Good then. Do you have any questions?"

Harry raised his hand hesitantly.

"Yes, Harry?" Kingsley called upon him, laughing at Harry's stiffer atmosphere around the new Minister.

"Er, what day will we be leaving?" Harry asked. "I mean, I understand it's a Time-Turner, so for the people here it'll be as if we hadn't left, but how long should we wait?"

Kingsley clucked his tongue as he thought of his response. "Well," he finally came up with. "If we wait too long, the Ministry could already be in deep trouble with this man or woman. We aren't entirely sure how close he or she is to completing it. Then again, you'll need some time to pack supplies and plan." He contemplated again, stroking his chin with his thumb and index finger dramatically. "I would say a week."

"_A week_?" Harry shot back, surprised. "You expect us to be ready to do this in a week?"

Kingsley nodded slowly. "Well, I plan on helping you three find things to pack that would be useful. That will make things much easier on you." He paused. "Plus, we need to find something to do with your hair."

"What's wrong with our hair?" Hermione shot back, grabbing her own wavy dark hair protectively.

"If this is another ginger joke, I'm gonna have to confund you a bit," Ron joked.

Kingsley chucked. "Settle down, it's not a big deal."

"If you're going to cut my hair off, then yes, it's a pretty big deal." Hermione became more anxious. "I have worked _years _to get it to look like this. You don't _want _to know all of the spells I've casted and the muggle hair products I've doused it with to try to tame it back when it was fuller."

"You mean back when you had an afro?" Ron cheeked. "I'm sure you would have fit in perfectly with the 1970s time frame."

Hermione punched his shoulder lightly, knowing that he was joking, but not enjoying his humor at a time like this. "This is serious, Ronald. Hair isn't a big deal to guys, but for girls, it's like our own child."

Kingsley calmly responded to her. "Hermione, I promise that we won't have to cut your hair. We might need to make some small adjustments, but all of them can be easily fixed once you get back."

"Alright then," Hermione whispered under her breath, still hesitant.

There was a brief silence, and Ron raised his hand.

"Will anyone know of our plan? Particularly the teachers, I mean. Wouldn't it be a little dodgy for three seventh-year students to transfer into Hogwarts all at once? Especially because none of us are related." He seemed to have finally found a flaw in the plan, but Kingsley responded hastily.

"Allow me to ask you a question in response to this question. Who is the one professor that you would trust with your life?" he asked them, smiling slightly.

The three of them scratched their heads, searching for names that would make sense.

"Professor McGonigall?" Harry suggested.

"Well, yes, I suppose. But guess again," Kingsley urged them.

"If either of you say Professor Trelawney, I'm not talking to you for the rest of the day," Ron joked yet again. His humor provided as a defense mechanism to hide the fact that he had no idea of whom Kingsley was thinking.

Kingsley answered for them with simply one word. "Dumbledore."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked at each other at first, speculating what he meant by this, but suddenly becoming more and more aware that Dumbledore was in fact alive and headmaster of Hogwarts in 1979.

"He will provide as your confidant throughout the process. I will write a note in the morning addressing him, telling him of our plan, which you will deliver to him upon entering Hogwarts. Of course, I will not give him enough details to tamper with the present, but if I simply inform him about the forgery of the Elder Wand, he will understand. Even back then, Albus and I were good friends." Kingsley seemed nostalgic thinking about his old friend.

"Does that mean he won't know any of us?" Hermione clarified. "He won't know whom Harry is, or how he defeated Voldemort when he was a baby?"

Kingsley nodded solemnly. "For all he knows, the three of you are complete strangers to him."

Harry seemed hurt by this. Ron and Hermione understood of course. Having to face his mentor and have him not know who he is, that would crush him.

"It's going to be so weird, seeing him again," Harry said quietly, more to himself than to the others. "I wonder what he would have done if he had been around for this situation to happen."

Kingsley replied as if he had thought about this as well. "He would've been able to look into the Pensieve, back at his past memories. Unfortunately, nobody we know has enough knowledge about each and every student at the time to do that, so we're forced to solve this in a much more difficult way."

Harry paused again, reflecting. "I don't want to have to say goodbye to Ginny again. Not after all of this…"

Hermione reached her hand to touch his shoulder affectionately. "Ginny will understand, Harry. She cares too much about you to let it get in the way."

"Plus," Ron added. "It'll be as if we hadn't even left, right? We'll be able to reappear from the past at the exact time we left. You won't be gone long enough for her to miss you."

Harry cracked a smile. "I'm more worried about how _I _will handle being separated from her than how she will handle it. She's stronger than I thought she was, which is really saying a lot." He looked from Hermione's eyes to Ron's. "Isn't it weird that we _just _came back from months of time away from everyone, and now we have to go right back into it?"

Hermione shrugged, nodding a bit. "Those are the risks we have to take, the ones we're inconveniently signed up for." She glanced at Kingsley before looking back at Harry. "What do you think Dumbledore would have done?"

"Yeah!" Ron chimed in. "What would Sirius do? What would Lupin and Tonks do? What would Mad-Eye do?" He paused, taking a gulp of his own spit before quietly asking, "What would Fred do?"

Ron felt Harry's body tense up next to him. His eyes looked glazed over at nothing in particular and his hands were clenched in frustrated, impatient fists. He was clearly trying to force the words out, but his body seemed to be preventing him from doing so.

"Harry, what do you say?" Hermione asked him comfortingly. She tilted her head to look at him with the littlest smile on her face. This type of face would have made Ron say yes to anything in a heartbeat, it was that irresistible.

Harry's eyebrows untensed themselves. He sat up a bit straighter and looked from Kingsley to Hermione – who gave him a nod in encouragement – to Ron and back to Kingsley.

"Let's do it."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Author's Note:

This was pretty much a chapter with the purpose of setting up the plot, so I apologize if it was a little dry.

I'd like to point out the fact that Harry is not as strong as he was in J.K. Rowling's books. This shows that having Harry as a protagonist (rather than Ron and Hermione, as my story does) might glorify him quite a bit.

Please review and continue reading!

Lexi


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER FOUR – THE INTERRUPTION**

The party had ended later than the Weasleys had planned. The food went quickly, but a panicked Mrs. Weasley resorted to using magic to duplicate the cupcakes, so every guest could have an unlimited amount of desserts.

"The buttercream frosting on the ones I made with magic isn't as creamy," she admitted to herself with a sigh after taking a bite.

George put his arm around her after taking a bite of his own. "I think it's great, mum," he replied with a smile. "You didn't have to put all the effort in—"

"But Freddie deserves the best," Mrs. Weasley slumped.

George joked to ease the tension. "When I got my ear blown off by those Death Eaters, I didn't get bloody cupcakes."

Mrs. Weasley smiled at her son. "Well, after hearing those news, my first instinct wasn't exactly to run to the kitchen. If your ear had a funeral, I would have been glad to cook for it."

George laughed. "That would've been great! A _hole_y day, it would have been. I can just _hear _the dirge." He started to hum Chopin's "Funeral March," but replaced each note with the word "ear."

Mrs. Weasley laughed at her son's sense of humor, half remarking at his immaturity, but also amused. George had overdone the ear jokes during the past months, but she still found them somewhat humorous despite their crudeness.

A few meters away from them, the trio was standing in a circle, quietly munching on their desserts. Harry was staring down at the chocolate cupcake in his hands, taking a bite every minute or so. Hermione was using her fingertip to swirl the frosting in spirals, leaving the cake part untouched. Ron, who normally would have stacked a whole plate with snacks, only took a single slice of apple pie, and even seemed hesitant to take bites of it.

The silence among them was overwhelming. They were all thinking the same thing, and they all knew that they were thinking the same thing.

Hermione clicked her tongue, finally speaking up. "Maybe I'm just over-analyzing things—"

"That would be a first," Ron cheeked.

Hermione gave him a warning glance, telepathically motioning for him to lower his voice to prevent the other guests from overhearing. "Maybe I'm just over-analyzing things, but does Kingsley seem a bit…" She searched for the word, tapping her finger on her knee. "Disorganized?"

"I thought you were going to say flustered," Harry admitted, laughing a bit. "But I agree with both statements. I'm still a little confused about some aspects of this."

"I don't blame you, Harry," Hermione replied. "I mean, think about it. The Ministry has been incorrect on so many occasions. What if this is just another fluke?"

"But what if it isn't?" Ron shot back. "I don't want any more lives at risk." He glanced over at his mother and George, who seemed to be enjoying each other's company. "Next time, it could be Kingsley, or it could be my dad." He paused, looking back and forth between his friends. "It could be any of us…"

Hermione shook her head quickly. "Don't talk like that."

"But it's true," Ron answered sharply. "Hermione, what would we do if something happened to Harry? It's horrible to even think about." He felt a lump grow in his throat as he continued, "I don't even know what I would do if something happened to _you_, Hermione. If after seven years of waiting for something to finally happen between us, it suddenly went to waste."

Hermione looked down at her feet. "It wouldn't be a waste."

Ron sighed. "And if something ever happened to me—"

"Stop it, Ron." Hermione's voice cracked a bit. "Stop."

A woman across the tent let out a cackling laugh. Several forks clinked against plates, scraping the last bits of pie and tart from the glass. Slughorn was heard shouting something along the lines of "Oi! Right on!"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Oh, this is ridiculous."

"What is?" Ron asked with his mouth full.

"All of this," Hermione replied with a sigh. "We don't even get a break after our last accomplishment. They just expect us to jump right back into saving the day."

Harry shook his head slowly. "I don't think I can handle the Ministry calling on us for help all the time now that they've seen what we can do. The Prophecy mentioned defeating Voldemort, not all this other stuff."

Hermione gave Harry a look. "Harry, you're not in this alone. Ron and I aren't going to let anything bad happen to you, and I'm sure you and Harry would do the same for me."

Ron shrugged at Harry. "Maybe if we didn't, it would be a good way to get her to shut up."

Hermione rolled her eyes, annoyed with his humor. "Please be serious, Ronald." She turned to Harry, looking him in the eyes sincerely. "Harry, believe me, everything is going to work out. We'll get the Ministry off our cases, anyway." She paused. "Besides, it'll be a way to get our seventh year of Hogwarts in."

Ron didn't seem too pleased with this idea. The idea of returning back to the place where all that violence and terror had occurred not long ago seemed less than ideal. Harry, however, seemed to lighten up.

"Let's talk later. I think your mum is coming back over," Hermione whispered to them before painting on the fake smile that would hide their plan… for now.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"Oi! Pass the pumpkin juice," George said from across the breakfast table.

Ron handed the jug to his brother while knawing on his toast.

"Pass the pumpkin juice _please_," Mrs. Weasley corrected her son. She still looked exhausted from hosting the party the day before. She hadn't slept well due to many guests' refusals to leave on time, most of whom were completely drunk and having trouble apparating.

George rolled his eyes. "I'll say 'please' when Ron stops chewing with his mouth wide open. I bet half of his diet is made up of flies that have snuck in there."

Ron swallowed. "Shut up."

Mrs. Weasley shrugged. "Well, you both clearly haven't learned your table manners from me." She glanced over at her husband, who was across the table, hunched over his plate, and chomping loudly on his food.

"Zat explains Bill's eating 'abits." Fleur sighed jokingly, gazing over at her husband.

"And of course none of it has to do with the fact that I was bitten by a werewolf, eh?" Bill replied, smiling while taking a sip from his glass.

"You use zat excuse for vy you von't cook breakfast or do ze dishes. You may be very charming and devilishly 'andsome, 'oney, but it doesn't work for everyzing," his wife answered.

Although the family was a fan of Fleur these days, their mushy table talk could get out of hand.

Mrs. Weasley gladly cut in. "Anyway, we should be expecting the mail soon. I sure hope Pig hasn't gotten lost again."

Percy, who had just dished an extra portion of eggs onto his plate, replied, "You still have that ruddy thing? I half expected a hawk to have eaten it by now, on account of its tiny size."

"Pigwidgeon is a boy." The voice came from the bottom of the stairs, not from the kitchen table, causing the Weasleys, Harry, and Hermione to jump.

Ginny had finally come downstairs for the first time since Harry and Neville had brought her to her room at the party. She wore her fuzzy pink slippers and a mismatched pajama set. Her normally straight hair stood up on end and her under-eyes wore bags of deep purple. It was the worst Harry had ever seen her look, but he didn't seem to mind.

"Ginny, we haven't seen you in hours. Are you alright, sweetie?" Mrs. Weasley cooed, waving her arms to signal her daughter to join them at the table.

"I, er—" Ginny stammered, taking a seat in the chair next to her mother. Not shockingly, having to tell her mother that she had been blackout drunk the night before was going to be difficult.

"She left the party early to get a good night's rest," Ron finished for her, lying through his teeth.

"A good night's rest, Ron? She looks a fright." Percy didn't seem to be catching on to Ron's attempts to cover for her. "No offense, Ginny."

"None taken, Perce." Ginny looked down at her feet, clicking her heels together.

"You missed dessert, love. All of your relatives were looking for you." Mrs. Weasley wasn't being harsh with her statements, but merely searching for an explanation.

"Mum." Ginny allowed herself to finally let go. "I left the party because it was all too much for me to handle. I mean, having all of these people who barely even knew Fred acting like they were his biggest fans, that was hard for me to see!"

"They were supporting the family, Ginny," Mr. Weasley stated.

Ginny shrugged. "I'm not the strong girl you think I am, mum. I'm not strong enough to stay at my brother's funeral and I'm not strong enough to live every day without my brother."

Mrs. Weasley reached out, touching her hand. "Ginny, I'm not expecting you to be strong right now. What happened was an utter tragedy and it's not going to take some cake and pie to move on from it."

Ginny squeezed her mother's hand.

"It's going to take support from friends and family to live on from it," her mother finished, allowing a tear to fall down her cheek and onto her lap.

The table remained silent for several minutes after this conversation, as the family continued to eat their breakfast and reflect on what was just said.

Suddenly, a light clicking aroused the group, averting their eyes from their plates to the window near the sink. The little owl stood, hooting cheerfully and hopefully, with several parchments in his beak.

"Allow me," Hermione said, standing up to pay the owl.

Ron couldn't help but notice how stunning Hermione looked, even ungroomed and just out of bed. Her hair, although in its normal untidy manner, was swept back into a bun, showing off her remarkable cheekbones. Her mint green tank top and loose shorts showed off some of her soft skin, which Ron didn't find particularly unworthy.

She patted Pig lightly on the head as she rifled through the envelopes, reading aloud to whom each was addressed.

"Mr. Weasley, you've got a letter from a man named Hubert Treeman."

Mr. Weasley rolled his eyes, shaking his head in annoyance. "Probably with more questions on my newest proposal at the Ministry. Merlin knows how unbelievably braindead that man can be."

"Mrs. Weasley, you have a letter from your sister—"

Mrs. Weasley did not show much more enthusiasm than her husband had. "Of course that woman would send a letter discussing how lovely the party was the day after its occurrence. She likes to kiss my bum when she needs something. Oh dear, I hope she hasn't exploded her bathtub again."

Nobody else seemed to want to ask about this, so Hermione continued. "Harry, you have a letter from—" She stopped herself, too shocked to finish.

"Who is it?" Ron shouted at her, trying to avoid as much drama as he could for the time being.

"Dudley Dursley," she replied in a tiny voice.

Harry's eyes widened from behind his glasses. The rest of the table didn't seem to understand how unlikely this situation would have occurred normally, even though they were all well aware of the Dursleys' less than kind form of bringing up Harry.

"Well?" Ron propositioned to his best friend. "Aren't you going to open it?"

Harry sat back in his chair, trying to disappear for enough time to allow his mind to make itself up on its own.

"I think it would be better if Harry read it by himself," Hermione replied, seeing Harry's hesitation. She gave Ron a look that said _He's going to read it to us later anyway._

"Well," George stated, folding his hands on the table. "This is all too much commotion for me to handle before eleven o'clock." He stood up, excusing himself. "I'll be upstairs, making no noise and pretending that I don't exist."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"Come on, mate. Read it!" Ron pressured his friend, shoving the envelope in his face over and over again.

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were sitting on Ginny's big, lumpy bed, trying to take each other's minds off of several things. While Ron was interested in seeing what Harry's cousin had to say to him after all these months, Hermione and Ginny were trying to keep their friend from breaking by means of changing the subject.

"Ginny, has your head been hurting at all? Are you dizzy or light-headed?" Hermione kept asking the girl, attempting to be nurturing but truly coming across as overbearing.

Ron and Harry kept trying to keep Hermione from bringing up Ginny's drunken state from the previous night and obvious hangover at that current moment, understanding how ashamed Ginny had felt as a result.

Then of course there was Fred. Nobody even considered bringing up Fred, as nothing good could have come of it.

Instead, the group kept small talk going.

"Do you three think you'll go back to Hogwarts next year?" Ginny asked them, curiously. "I doubt you will have to, of course. Having 'defeated the Dark Lord' on your resume isn't exactly shabby."

Ron and Hermione shrugged, trying to avoid the conversation. Telling Ginny about their plan would only cause trouble in their opinions. Harry, however, saw things differently.

"I suppose you could say that." He shrugged, trying to appear cool about the matter, when in fact, he was nearly giving the plan away.

Ginny's eyebrows narrowed for a moment, but she shrugged off her confusion and ignored his previous statement. As she looked away to pull a loose thread off her shirt, Ron kicked Harry's stomach as a punishment for his loose lips.

"Anyway," Hermione said, annoyed by her boyfriend's somewhat primal approach. "I suppose I'd like to finish up my Hogwarts education. Even if I don't have to, it would still be a nice thing to do."

Ron interrupted. "But then again, not going back would be a hell of a good time, eh?"

"I suppose, if your future goals consist of sleeping until noon and—"

"I woke up at ten o'clock today, actually."

"I just think we need to be ambitious if we want to be successful."

"Just because someone doesn't finish their education doesn't mean—"

"Merlin," Ginny chuckled, amazed by the couple's bickering. "You two fight like an old married couple."

Hermione shot Ron a quick, apologetic look, but there was something inside her that stood by her side of the argument, which she would plan to support until the day it was resolved.

"I just think we should live in the present, Hermione." Ron shrugged his shoulders. "We should focus on what's on our plate for the timebeing" (He looked at Harry quickly, signaling what he was referring to.) "And less on what will concern us in ten or so years." He took a breath before adding, "You know who lived in the present? Fred."

Hermione let out a little noise that came from a mixture of sorrow and discomfort.

"He and George never finished school. But look at all they accomplished in just one year! They started a successful business right from the ground. They were practically rolling in the galleons!"

Harry felt that it would be an inappropriate time to mention the fact that most of the money they had "rolled in" was a "loan" from Harry's Triwizard Tournament prize.

"Please," Ginny whimpered. "Don't bring up Fred."

"I was just making a point, Ginny. I didn't think you'd get upset from it." Ron tried to look his sister in the eyes, but she kept her head down.

"Yeah, of course you didn't think it, Ron." Ginny's voice shook. "Of course you didn't realize that the death of a family member would upset the rest of us. Because that's just absolutely fucking ridiculous." Her sarcasm cut through him like a knife through soft butter.

Ron didn't know how to react. "What are you on about?"

Harry whispered to Ginny, "Don't do this, Ginny."

"Don't do what?" Ron asked again. "What's going on?"

Hermione put her hand on Ron's back, as if to soothe him, as she explained, "It seems that Ginny thinks you're taking the tragedy less seriously than the rest of your family."

"What?" Ron asked, more confused than angry.

Ginny nodded in response, bobbing her head with confidence. "Admit it, Ron. You're impervious to emotions."

Ron shook his head, rolling his eyes. "That's complete rubbish."

"Then how" Ginny began. "do you manage to talk about Fred so freely?"

"Freely?" Ron repeated. "I just didn't expect to be walking on eggshells around you."

Ginny burst out, shrilly and hastily, "You didn't even cry at the funeral!"

Ron remained silent for a few seconds, trying to absorb that completely. "Bloody hell, I didn't know I was being watched."

Ginny continued, "Mum and dad cried, George cried, Hermione cried, even Bill cried."

Hermione cut in. "I don't think this is necessary."

Harry quickly gave her a look that said, _Stay out of it. It's not your fight._

"So, please, be courteous to the rest of our feelings despite the fact that you don't have any." Ginny crossed her arms, ignoring the tears that had just begun to fall.

Ron stood up quickly, keeping his eyes fixed on her. "Bitch." With that, he stormed out, heading upstairs to his own room.

Hermione hesitated, looking at Harry worriedly. With a nod, he affirmed to her that he would stay with Ginny while she comforted Ron.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Ron landed on his bed with his stomach facing the ceiling. His heart was racing, but his tone remained calm around Hermione. She had a way of keeping him relaxed, even though she drove him completely insane during other times.

"Don't let her get to you," she would say every time she heard her boyfriend sigh that day. She took a seat on the side of his bed, looking down at him comfortingly.

"She's just so… immature."

"I think drinking that much at the party was very sophomoric, but I don't think her feelings are a result of immaturity." Hermione always had a way of saying things so correctly and dignifiedly, as to not show too much favor for one side of the argument.

"I hate how she thinks that she's entitled to an apology just because she's overemotional."

"Well, I wouldn't call her overemotional, Ron." Before digging herself a deeper hole, she added, "And you're not under-emotional. People just have different ways of dealing with things."

Ron felt his heartbeat slow down. He sat up in his bed, looking into his girlfriend's deep brown eyes. "You're so smart, Hermione."

Hermione smiled back at him. "I know," she replied with a laugh.

"And don't worry," he continued. "You're going back to Hogwarts, whether I like it or not. And I'll be there." He paused, cracking a smile. "The image of you having nobody's homework to write up for them is terrifying." He quickly imagined her, alone in the common room, fighting back the temptation to edit her classmates' papers, missing the times when Ron and Harry begged her to help them.

Hermione chuckled. "I suppose I could help you with your homework again."

Ron cracked a grin. "How will I ever repay you?" he mumbled, leaning in closer.

Their lips met slowly at first, intertwining playfully, but soon became much more longing and passionate. Their arms wrapped around each other, cupping each other's faces and grasping onto backs and sides.

Before he knew it, he was on his back, facing the ceiling again. However, this time, Hermione managed to climb on top of him with enough speed to provide the element of surprise.

"Shit," he whispered, more out of shock than anything. He didn't know Hermione could be so…

"Spontaneous?" she finished his thought for him. She straddled her legs over his body, lining her hips up with his. Instead of telling him not to swear so much, as she often did, Hermione brushed her tongue slowly along Ron's lower lip.

Without hesitation, Ron opened his own lips wider and slid his tongue into her mouth.

Kissing Hermione was unlike anything else Ron could ever imagine. He never expected the left-brained girl to be so passionate. He felt himself harden quickly inside his pants, enjoying the tingly pulsating that he achieved as a result of this.

Giving her a taste of her own sweet medicine, Ron flipped Hermione onto her back, taking charge again. She put her hands by his waist, playing with the bottom hem of his T-shirt, feeling the skin underneath it. Getting her drift, Ron pulled back from the kiss for a moment to pull the shirt over his head and threw the navy fabric onto the floor.

"Merlin," he heard her say.

_Shit_, he thought. _Does she think I'm too pale? Are the freckles on my chest noticeable? I bet Krum had more chest hair than I do._

"You're gorgeous, Ron," she moaned, rubbing her hands along his bare back.

"_I'm _gorgeous?" he replied, looking down at himself. "You're—"

Before he could finish, Hermione dove right back into the kiss, engulfing his mouth with her own, tasting his breath. Ron put his hand high on her waist, squeezing the smallest part of it tightly.

Hermione responded to his touch with a quiet moan in the back of her throat. She separated her lips from his with enough time to say, "Go for it, Ron."

Of course he knew what she was talking about. Her chest wasn't particularly large, but it enticed him, and he was sure that she knew that. He had been holding back for minutes, avoiding the temptation that he feared would make her uncomfortable.

He pulled back. "Are you sure?" he asked, gentlemanly.

Hermione looked up at him, fighting back a smile. "Yes, Ronald. I'm sure."

Ron felt his ears redden as he slowly moved his right hand upward, until it rested itself on her breast. He felt his tool stab into his pants, harder than ever, but ignored the slight discomfort. In response to her apparent smile, he cupped it tighter, squeezing it and unsqueezing it, moving his hands around it, doing what he had imagined other guys do when they feel up their girlfriends.

Hermione climbed back on top, straddling him yet again, arching her back to meet his lips with hers. Ron thought this was extremely smart of her, as it gave him _much _more access to her chest.

He began to get used to the hang of it as the minutes passed. The cup, squeeze, slight twist, release action with an occasional rub across her nipples, which he could easily feel through the layers that she wore.

"You know what I think you'd like?" Hermione asked him, raising one eyebrow higher than the other.

Ron eagerly waited for her to tell him. He could hardly think of anything that could make him happier than he was at that very moment. But then…

She sat up straight, forming a ninety-degree angle from his body, and, while looking down at him with lust in her eyes that he thought was incapable of Hermione Jean Granger, the witch at the top of their class, to have, peeled her tank top above her head.

There it was, the image that Ron had looked forward to for years: Hermione Granger, one of his best friends, shirtless and on top of him. Yes, she was still wearing her bra, but it was one of the most titillating things he ever thought he would come across.

Ron's hands reached out to touch her almost exposed chest before she could even react. He swore to himself, remarking at the lacy blue fabric that covered it.

He felt his erection stab into something past his pants.

"You feel really excited, Ron," Hermione noted.

Shit, he was rubbing against her leg. Ron felt his ears grow redder and redder as he cursed at himself for not cooling himself down.

"I, er—"

Hermione laughed, more relaxed than amused. "It's fine, really. It's actually a compliment." She moved the rest of her body back downwards to kiss him again, tracing the outline of his mouth with her tongue.

He never thought a girl would be so cool about this. He thought that she would laugh _at _him, grossed out by his lack of self-control that showed through his three-dimensional pants.

After minutes of this, his feeling her and her running her hands along his exposed torso, all while kissing, Hermione broke away from his lips only to add one more comment.

"It's not going to take itself off, you know," she whispered sensually to him, showing what she meant by looking down at the fabric that kept her top half from being naked like his.

Ron didn't even bother to ask if it was okay. He was so caught up in the moment, so attracted by Hermione's allure, that he brought his hands to the back clasp of her bra faster than he could even blink.

_Shit, _he thought to himself. _Would Alohamora work on this thing?_

Although he felt like a prick for it, unhooking her bra was one of the most challenging things he had come across in a long time.

_Merlin, give me another giant chess board to get across. Give me another three-headed dog, another History of Magic O.W.L. to take._

He was sure that only a few seconds had passed of him struggling against the metal hooks, but they felt like lifetimes.

_For fuck's sake, I'll duel Voldemort on the spot._

Before Merlin could hypothetically bring Voldemort back to life to face Ron, one of the two hooks undid itself. However, just as he brought his hands back to focus on the second one—

The bedroom door burst open. "Guys, Ginny is ready to apologize when—"

Hermione jumped off of Ron and onto the floor, grabbing her shirt off the rug while simultaneously trying to keep Harry from seeing her indecent self.

"Fuck off!" Ron shouted at his friend, throwing a pillow at him.

"Am I interrupting some—"

"YES!" Ron and Hermione hollered at the same time.

"Well, I guess I'll just go back downstairs then."

"No shit, mate," Ron added. Before his friend turned to leave, he said, "Knock next time, damn it."

Harry shrugged awkwardly as he began to step out of the doorway. As if he remembered something all of a sudden, he popped his head back in, saying, "Come back in Ginny's room once you guys are all done. I'm going to open the letter from Dudley."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Author's Note:

I apologize for my long hiatus from writing. I've had a lot on my plate, between graduating from high school last month, picking up extra hours at work all while starting up a new job, and enjoying my "senior summer." I'll try to write as often as I can, and update on Thursdays (or early Friday mornings, depending on how off-schedule I am).

This chapter serves primarily as a reflection on the party and everyone's actions at it. Ginny's anger at Ron's unemotional personality will become a recurring theme, as Ron becomes self-conscious that he might come across as cold.

Then, the smut… Ah yes, the smut. I apologize for that accidental cockblock on Harry's part, but I assure you, things will progress. Be patient, you horntoads.

Keep reading and _please _review! I love critiques and (of course) compliments!

Lexi


End file.
